


The Summerlands

by KuriQuinn



Series: Karma [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Afterlife, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Forgiveness, Redemption, Soulmates, indrachi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriQuinn/pseuds/KuriQuinn
Summary: The instant after death is always disorienting, no matter how many times he’s experienced it. Usually it is followed by a rush of cold around him and lungs gasping for air, and wordless howls as memories of a past life fade into the subconscious of a new brain.





	The Summerlands

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be squished by a Susanoo wielding demi god if you are found plagiarizing.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** I wrote this on tumblr ages ago and forgot to upload it. Decided to do that now. Enjoy!

Indra opens his eyes a moment and an eternity later, and breathes deep.

The instant after death is always disorienting, no matter how many times he’s experienced it. Usually it is followed by a rush of cold around him and lungs gasping for air, and wordless howls as memories of a past life fade into the subconscious of a new brain.

This time, there is none of that, and for an unnamed amount of time the sheer wonder of that discovery is enough.

The air around him smells of everything and nothing all at once. The Konoha springs he always loved, rife with the perfume of cherry-blossoms, and the sea-scented summer nights on his sect’s island sanctuary; the comforting, earthy scent of dew-damp mornings learning  _ninshu_ beneath his father’s watchful eye and autumn evenings philosophising with his best friend. Grass tickles idly at his bare skin, and tall trees loom protectively above; somewhere beyond him he hears a brook babbling, murmuring to him of hopes and dreams and promises come to fruition.

Uncertain, Indra pulls himself to his feet, staring in surprise at his hands – not gnarled from age, but young and strong, and whole. He clearly remembers losing his left, and yet not, and some foreign feeling buoys up within him. Some long-carried burden is missing from him now, and he feels light.

Motion draws his eyes, and his attention flies instantly to the rippling lea before him, where flowers and grasses dance in a non-existent breeze. A lone figure approaches, nothing but shadow at first, before coalescing into a woman whose form he would know anywhere.

He isn’t even aware of stepping forward, inexorably drawn to her as if some invisible string of chakra has wrapped around them. As the light filters through the treetops, he sees glimpses of all the other guises she has worn etched into the shadows of her face. But the closer he gets, the more she looks the way she did the first day he ever saw her – wide grey eyes and golden brown skin and lips that always curve upward.

Beautiful, he realises, because now he is free to.

As if she can read his thoughts, she smiles at him then. The same smile that made him feel like a child when she first trained it on him the day he taught her to heal - a smile that somehow is the same in every life. He knows now that was the day he realised what she meant to him, however much he tried to fool himself.

His heart feels heavy then, other memories that are not so pleasant returning to him.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, the words as foreign to him as the voice he hasn’t heard in over a millennium, “for everything.”

“Ridiculous man,” she replies softly, “how many times must we have this conversation?” She raises a hand to caress his cheek. “I forgave you so, so long ago.”

He covers her hand with his own, pressing into it and relishing the soft feel of her skin against his. “You shouldn’t. The things I’ve done…”

“Have been paid for,” she finishes, uncharacteristically firm. She sounds more like one of her other selves. “ _Many_  times over.”

He remembers screams, blood in the streets and a shadow in the moonlight. Lifetimes of loss and grief.  And empty smile at an arranged marriage.

“I did love you,” he tells her, the uncertainty and fear of speaking those words aloud gone from this strange place. “Every time.”

She sighs sadly. “I know. It just…it was never the  _right_  time. Until it was.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

“But wasn’t it worth it in the end?”

He shoots a sharp look at her. “Was it the end?”

“Maybe,” she tells him, with an uncertain little shrug, “Maybe it was just the beginning? It depends on what you want.”

“I want to stay here,” he says immediately, and when she stifles a giggle, he feels a blush overtake his cheeks for the first time in lifetimes. “That is…for a while.”

“However long you want,” she agrees. “Together.”

“Together,” he confirms.

She takes his hand in her infinitely familiar one, and begins to lead him toward the meadow.

“Asura’s eager to see you again,” she tells him with an urchin grin that he tends to associate with seafoam and cherry-blossoms. “You would not  _believe_ the argument we had over who would greet you first. Your father talked some sense into him, fortunately.”

“My father…and Asura is here,” Indra repeats dimly, but his voice rises in question.

“Of course – you arrived here first, mind you, but time works differently. We’ve all been waiting for you for so long.” Her eyes soften. “Some much longer than others.”

“I always keep you waiting,” he sighs.

“Not anymore,” she assures him with utter certainty. “No more waiting.”

“No more waiting,” he vows, letting her lead him into the light.

終わり

 

**Author's Note:**

> _I hope Indra doesn’t seem too OOC, it’s just I figure once he finally lets go of all that hatred he’s probably a lot more open about stuff. And, you know, being dead and all he’s probably more light-hearted. At least, that’s how I saw it…hope you enjoyed!_
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> **クリ**  
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